This temporary life
by hikachu
Summary: This end truly seems to suit me in more than a way. Don't you think so too, Subaru-kun?


**THIS TEMPORARY LIFE**

I stare into the dark and breathe—each inhalation slow and impossibly deep. It's making my head hurt.

I can feel it so clearly – something inside my skull, safely tucked in the viscid volutes of my brain, a part of me that's always been there but that I'm starting to acknowledge only now. I can feel it: pulsating, moving like a cruel set of jaws—clenching and unclenching, making the blood rush through my veins almost desperately.

My face feels hot; my head heavy.

But the heart is frozen and my hands, sleek with crimson blood, feel strangely empty, as though as, all of sudden, they had to let go of something they'd been holding tightly for the past decade or so.

And I know I'm just being foolish again, for you were never mine to begin with.

**---**

Just before dawn, a small kingdom arises in all its glory: it lives, for a short while, even more secret and ineffable than dreams themselves. It exists, shallow and reassuring, as solid as a sandcastle left to the mercy of the sea. It exists, white and peaceful in an empty way, for a handful of brief minutes in between sleep and wake and it's still enough to keep Subaru from going insane when a new day starts, and escaping life and memories becomes impossible.

It's a washed-out landscape with no lakes or mountains or houses or people. Actually, it resembles more of a blank space than anything else, but as maddening as it should be, Subaru still appreciates it for he can lose himself in that complete lack of everything.

Body, thoughts, duties and wishes—all of these things vanish, and the only thing he can't forget is that, after all, he still _is_ – that he exists, somewhere and somehow; and it's a distant thought, which has nothing to do with the painful concept of _living_.

Simply enough, Subaru walks – slowly, one foot carefully following the other, in a calm and yet desperate attempt not to fall… even though this will eventually happen. Eventually. In due time. Always. But, morning after morning, Subaru does still try and so he walks on the thin boundary separating night from day.

All the while, the only things he's aware of are the point where his cheek ends against the softness of the pillow, or the not-so-smooth feeling of his old linen sheets under the naked planes of his chest. Or the beloved, sweet warmth draped over his waist and lower back—These are the miraculous moments in which Subaru can forget about names and shapes, and let himself savour the absolute peace that is emptiness.

But the sun rises – quick, and high in the sky, and dawn breaks into the room—sunrays caress his face and gently coax his eyelids into lifting—eyelashes tremble and lips part only to join each other again soon after—

Subaru is awake and the white world is now tainted—full of traps and wants and what-ifs. Reality is dirty-grey and so full of things and people one could easily lose themselves in it.

A green eye wanders over blurred surroundings, and the sweet warmth from before now acquires a taste so bitter Subaru almost cries, childishly wishing Seishirou hadn't stayed.

Then, the phone starts ringing and Hien's solemn voice ceremoniously inquires if the Head of the Sumeragi will be kind and show himself before Princess Hinoto. As soon as possible.

**---**

It seems that the human body is indeed a very complex biological machine.

I once read in a magazine that it has got many 'inner clocks' to help it survive, escape dangers and avoid perilous situations which may result in death.

Tic. Toc. Tic. Toc.

How could we ever associate this vacant and annoying sound with time; let it set the pace of our lives? If life truly is so valuable and precious, how could everyone accept to have something as worthless as a clock ruling over their time?

The flow of minutes, hours, days—doesn't it feel different from occasion to occasion? Wouldn't it be easier to simply live each second for what it is—enjoy ourselves as long as we can, as long as it requires no efforts or pains on our behalf?

Who knows: perhaps, deep inside, everyone is very-well aware that our existences are instead pretty useless – meaningless – per se, and even our bodies can feel it – silently keeping track of this time we were given, waiting for the end. After all, for the balance to stay undisturbed, the only thing which does really count is that this cycle of death and rebirth won't ever stop.

As for me, I'm human too, but I don't feel any kind of attachment towards this life. I merely happen to wonder about certain topics every now and then. Boredom is much more difficult to escape for those of my kind; time is not merciful with us as it flows, skipping from moments that vanish and turn into memories quicker than the blink of an eye, to days which seem to stretch beyond any decency, trying to swallow us into their worthlessness, although—

—Although neither my predecessors nor I could be really worried or pained by that. Only the dullness of this world can reach our empty hearts—and monotony is, to us, far worse than afflictions or death itself, for none of these two can touch a Sakurazukamori in any way.

But, Subaru-kun, all things considered, I believe you already knew that pretty well.

**---**

Subaru Sumeragi has just turned twenty at midnight.

He lost track of the time as soon as the thin, plastic arms pointed together at the black numbers in the highest part of the clock—Scribbles, Subaru tells himself, it really isn't anything more than that. Just a couple of abstract characters which represent nothing, know nothing of years and months and seconds gone by—of all the things that time steals, rips, shreds to pieces and lets perish. One and two. Black curves and straight lines standing together, but still so alone and meaningless. Merely scribbles, Subaru repeats again inside his head, and curls some more, till the point he could embrace his knees and touch the blank, cold wall with his forehead. Under him, the bed feels hard and uncomfortable, as if it were made of rocks.

Subaru is twenty now, but he knows he's still the same person he was before midnight – and yesterday and the day before yesterday too—it almost seems he's always been this broken young man, while it's instead obvious that something has changed, that the transformation occurred, at some point. And Subaru knows this very well, for his own existence now revolves around that change.

And the person who caused it.

Limbs and fingers gone numb, Subaru forces himself to sit and not to wince when his feet touch the cold parquet. Then, abruptly, he stands, so pale he's almost glowing under the moonlight, and so very alone. Even the shadows in his room seem to shun him, but Subaru does not care.

He walks, silent and unconsciously elegant, grabs his coat from where he'd let it fall in a heap, and searches its pockets for the cigarettes he's bought on the way home.

**---**

In so many years that they've known each other, they haven't even shared a proper embrace. It took the end of the world to change things and between a kiss and another, time seems to run even more frantically; and it steals moment after moment away from their lives and their duties; time runs, alters everything and the world becomes a blur; its flow is devouring their existences with more voracity than usual – time runs, merciless, taking away bits of a morning that blurs and blends into an early afternoon of gold and grey and sticky warmth; sweat—Subaru opens his eyes and wonders how much time has actually passed since they've started this strange game, and how much they've still got left, for he knows that this is against any logic and normalcy. That they're still _two_ and that which separates them is a distance that is impossible to overcome, because of how and who they are, their roles and personas but, most importantly, because they will never let it happen in the first place.

Deep inside Subaru knows it, and he can't find a sense, a meaning to whatever it is that they're doing. Each time Seishirou's mouth leaves his face or his body, Subaru feels lost, asking himself: what now, what now – the question rings and echoes in his mind, threatening to let him fall in a black abyss he's managed to avoid up until now. _What now_. But Seishirou is kissing him again; his hands touch him and his fingers can warm up his flesh even through the layers of cloth—Subaru shuts his eyes and gives in, even if he doesn't really want to: the touches and laboured breaths and the silence, they all feel too wrong, misplaced and. Fragile.

**---**

There has been a catch, in your breath – a quicker intake, briefer and sharper. It probably burnt your fatigued throat; it cut into my chest, as unforgiving as a dagger.

A catch in your breath. And it sounded as if you were surprised. _Seishirou-san_. You who were always so detached and collected—I wish I could have heard you gasp before, in another time and another life, different, brighter; and it should have been out of joy or surprise – anything as long as it didn't mean apathy or you vanishing from my life.

…And that smile, and those words, they—

**---**

I also remembered that you are turning twenty today: see, Subaru-kun, it seems that inside of me there's one of those 'inner clocks' meant to work only for you. Aren't you happy?

**---**

When Seishirou moves away from him, Subaru shivers: suddenly, the air all around him feels cold.

He steps back until his back collides with the wall, which is icy and so white and empty it looks endless; Subaru foolishly hopes it will swallow him, and presses himself against it so hard it's beginning to hurt. It's not that he's afraid of Seishirou, or that he wants to escape, even though he _is_ ashamed—rather, he doesn't think he could face openly, and for the second time in his life, the fact that Seishirou does not care at all. He doesn't think he could manage it—And it's not a truth he already knows that he wants to evade, either: it's the idea, the possibility of breaking down in front of this man he loves so hopelessly, this man who would never understand, which Subaru cannot accept.

And he is naked, except for a sock which has stubbornly refused to come off with his trousers, and now, lowered, it's pooling around his ankle in pearl-gray volutes.

(And this makes him look slightly childish, and Seishirou thinks of him as he was at sixteen, discovering once again that, deep inside, this bitter Subaru is no different from that naïve boy with huge, trusting eyes.)

**---**

—They were sweet enough to be cruel, coming from you, making almost no sense at all to my ears, even when those words were also the one and only truth I had left when thinking of you.

Were you sincere? I'll never know.

I hate myself for never telling you how I truly felt.

**---**

The sheets feel strangely warm under his back: probably, it's only him sweating too much for some odd reason. Anxiety, maybe. Thinking about the past often makes him feel weak, somehow nervous. Angry, and full of hatred.

The room reeks of smoke, but it's already been a couple hours since Subaru has lit his first cigarette of the night, and he can't tell the difference anymore. Sometimes, he dreams his older sister scolding him: "_Subaru_! Eww! At this rate your lungs are going to turn black!" – but she's only a dream, and so he doesn't care. After all, it's not like he'd have started smoking in the first place, had she been still alive.

His clothes cling uncomfortably to his skin, and Subaru closes his eyes, as if concentrating on the cigarette held between his lips and fingers. But the heat is really too much, and he sighs in defeat, setting down his still-lit cancer-stick in the ashtray to get rid of his sweat-drenched shirt. When Subaru lies down again, the sheets are but even warmer, and they feel like melting against his naked flesh, as if trying to embrace him.

Palms open and bony fingers splayed across creamy skin, Subaru's hands set on his stomach; his lids fall like curtains upon his eyes as he shudders.

He doesn't do this often, but not to recognize this feeling is impossible.

**---**

You do not exist anymore, and this knowledge his far harder to cope with than being nothing to you.

At this point, even my own death has lost its meaning.

Your marks are fading away and kissing them is nothing like kissing you. They are the cause of everything, the point from where it all started and yet—

—I don't want them to disappear.

I don't want you to set me free.

These stars you carved into my flesh—They are all that's left to me of you. Those and the blood which I—I—

Your blood, Seishirou-san. Your essence—Maybe, as long as it stays on me, I won't lose you completely—maybe—

Seishirou-san, if I lift my hands to my face, I can lose myself into the scent of your blood; I close my eyes and breath in.

I inhale and it burns. And I'm grateful for it. It's a bit like having you inside me.

**---**

Today I first saw you after nearly nine years. I spotted you running through the crowded street, occasionally bumping into someone. Your eyes were glued to the sky, like that time we met at the train station, but I couldn't ignore the fact that, this morning, you wouldn't stop to apologize whenever you collided with a woman or a salaryman; that your hands were bare and your shoulders larger.

Twenty-five years of life turned you into a man, but I'll never know when did the change occur exactly.

There is a severe quality to your beauty, now – a kind of silent, icy anger, as if, for some reason, you can't forgive the world. Or yourself. It makes your paleness similar to that of the snow, and where you used to remind me of the moon, now, when I look at you, I can only think of ice and snowflakes.

Heh.

…I wonder, Subaru-kun, is it perhaps my fault that you're so different, now?

**---**

It's useless and squalid, Subaru thinks.

He's miles and miles away from reality; his thoughts are hazy, and filled with voices he can barely recognize—but soon those become completely indistinguishable too, along with the seconds that are liquefying, bleeding out of nowhere and into each other. Into the room, drowning everything but that sense of self-loathing which seems to only grow day after day, year after year together with Subaru.

His fingers move quickly: it's yet another proof of his foolishness, maybe, but he has never expected himself to know his own body like this. At heart. It must be because of the desperation, some part of him screams, the longing, the regret—in a way, this is a punishment, a reminder of his loneliness, rather than an act meant to bring pleasure.

Fingers dance, swiftly, like white comets falling onto white skin. There's urgency in each gesture and Subaru is ashamed—As if being lonely really were a sin.

He comes whit a splash of light and whiteness, empty, frighteningly purposeless in the afterglow.

**---**

The room is pretty much devoid of any furniture, except for the bed and the black telephone sitting a few feet away, on the pavement. It's not that it had been fuller back when Hokuto was still alive, but, for some reason, it had seemed livelier, much more colourful.

Today it seems immense in its emptiness, and Subaru feels as though as both Seishirou and him have been swallowed by the white void that is his room. It's like a black hole miraculously radiating light, and they're inside of this strange world – trapped, maybe, or just hallucinating or dreaming—After all, this isn't something which would normally happen—and—And Seishirou tugs at his wrists to pull him closer—suddenly, unexpectedly, and Subaru falls on his lap, legs spread.

And he can feel it: Seishirou's heart, beating, echoing through the skin and the cloth and reaching his own flesh, his own heart. Tic. Toc. Tic. Toc. It's almost like a clock, the mismatched beating of their hearts, mercilessly keeping track of their time, second after second, trying to turn it into black, meaningless scribbles, and, finally, Subaru knows it: he knows this is instead real, for time keeps running and thus everything will eventually meet its end.

Tic. Toc. Tic. Toc.

The texture of Seishirou's trousers is making his bare thighs itch.

**---**

"Sakurazuka-san,"

"Hello! What a coincidence to meet you here, Kamui-kun."

"Indeed. If you aren't busy, Sakurazuka-san, we could visit that ice-cream parlour I—"

"Oh, I'm sorry, but today I'm rather busy. I'm afraid we'll have to wait for the next time we meet…"

"What a pity. Then, I assume you're working, today?"

"Actually, yes." A sigh. "Nothing difficult, I believe, in the whereabouts of Rainbow Bridge. Though I'd prefer to go and just admire the sea: I'm a bit tired today." Laughter. "I only hope I'm not getting old!"

"Well, you know, everything happens for a reason. Maybe, today is your lucky day."

"Uh—?"

"Okay! I think I've bothered you enough for now. I'd better get going. Just remember to enjoy a walk on Rainbow Bridge, after you're done: it's good to relax after a job. See you around!"

**---**

Falling back on the mattress, Subaru lets his old certainties crumble after four years of setting aflame his lungs with hatred and cigarettes. Teachings, duties, principles, they all turn into dust before _this_—this realization, this confession to himself—his true wish. Neesan, he prays voicelessly, neesan, please, forgive me, for I can't bring myself to sent him to where you are.

And Subaru has just turned twenty, even though he's already seen so much, suffered so much; and today he made his choice, and this, he realizes, makes him a man, somehow—He's a man and Hokuto will always be sixteen.

Hokuto, Hokuto.

The name feels foreign on his lips, after so many years, and—

—Subaru only wishes she could still embrace him – even if only for this night, even if it's selfish – and tell him that, yes, everything will be alright. That his wish will be granted and that soon he too will stop growing old.

**---**

The smile curving Seishirou's lips is unusually soft—not quite gentle, nor charged with any other significant emotion—it is simply there, existing: a delicate curve of silky flesh; and it somehow makes Seishirou look oddly serious and childish at the same time, the strange light in his features telling he's quietly making fun of someone or something: Subaru, or the world, or, maybe, even himself. He smiles, almost brightly, and draws invisible paths over white skin with his fingers; sometimes with his mouth. And the other shudders.

Subaru follows him with half-lidded eyes and unsaid words on the tip of his tongue, waiting in vain for their gazes to meet. Even now, he muses, Seishirou doesn't seem to acknowledge his presence, his very existence, and it only makes him more angry at himself, to know this and yet to stay still and do _nothing_, nothing except accepting the wild rush of time and Seishirou's warmth against his. Accepting them; clinging to them – as if there was no tomorrow, no ideals or reasons to live for, outside of this cold room and Seishirou's embrace. Seishirou, Seishirou, Seishirou—

Everything is full of him, somehow: the air, which is heavily impregnated with his scent, and Subaru can almost taste him on his tongue, just by breathing; the blank walls that get black and grey under the touch of his shadow, and of course Subaru's mind and heart.

Seishirou's hands are strong and can be unforgiving, but they are also graceful and long; they slide over Subaru's wrists, his arms, and travel all the way to his collarbone. Subaru wants to laugh as they literally run across his neck, up and down a few times before they reach his cheeks, but he does not.

One finger gently traces the gauze hiding half of his face, and Subaru is reminded that the grey sock isn't the only thing still left on him. He wonders if the gesture is meant to be mocking or simply cruel, and thinks that Seishirou's gentleness is perhaps to be feared: he is never going to notice me, Subaru thinks, if I am weak now.

And when Seishirou's hands move soothingly to undo the bandages, Subaru starts and grips his wrists and finds that he's still so small, for he can barely close his fingers around each wrist. It's frustrating, yes, and Subaru suddenly realizes his deep self-consciousness.

Seishirou has never stopped to see him as a boy, a clumsy child—

"No," He mutters, voice low and strangely firm.

—But Subaru cannot allow his own efforts to be in vain. He won't let this man know all of his wounds and weaknesses, each one of his thoughts—he won't let Seishirou own him completely, if that is what it takes to get him to acknowledge his existence.

"No." Subaru repeats, his gaze hard and yet trembling as a dying flame, and Seishirou complies, rewarding him with a smile that is sickeningly sweet.

**---**

Still, Subaru-kun, as different as you may have become, when you whipped your head around, I could still spot that innocence which had me brand you mine so many years ago—it's in there, Subaru-kun, hidden beneath that frail layer of ice; it's still there.

And forgive me if I couldn't suppress the urge to laugh when you fell, at last: I know it was terribly rude of me, but you are so cute, and I couldn't resist.

I'll admit I didn't stop to search your face for any trace of recognition or hurt either, but, frankly, I don't think you would have appreciated the gesture, and, moreover, it really was no concern of mine.

What truly matters, Subaru-kun, is that today I'm finally sure I made the right choice when I let you go.

**---**

Their play resumes: and melting into each other lasts for but a fleeting moment. It happens for the first and last time, and it's a thousand times less beautiful than it could have been.

Time is running again: in spite of everything, this won't leave them with anything more than a handful of dust and smoke in their eyes.

**---**

Seishirou, my beautiful Seishirou.

I wonder if you know how effortlessly I can see through your smiles and your honeyed words. You seem to forget so easily that we are the same, in the end!

But even so it's fine, Seishirou, because this too is part of who you are; what you have become and I love so dearly.

It feels so easy, so natural, to live and think of yourself as if you were immortal, doesn't it? When one does not—_cannot_ care for anyone, death appears as nothing more than a limit of the flesh.

When you wish for nothing, you also fear nothing. When you can see this world clearly, for what it is, even your own life stops being something to cling to and fight for; and you know you could do anything to anyone and go on like that forever, eternally unfazed.

Still, my Seishirou, 'forever' is a very long time; especially when you're alone. And many, many things can change in so many years.

A time will come for you to know love—whether you'll choose to accept it or reject it, it's a fate you cannot escape, for you are human too.

By then, my precious Seishirou, you will also learn the meaning of longing, and you will see how your wish cannot be granted, for it goes against everything that you know and that we are and represent, and, finally, you will understand—

You will long for death; and, in it, you will know happiness.

**---**

Hien's voice ceases to echo through the room as Subaru finds himself in the loose embrace of Seishirou's arms.

One hand wanders across his stomach in a playful way, as if Seishirou were stroking the belly of a lazy cat he's extremely fond of, and Subaru can feel a little bubble of happiness rising from his heart to his mouth, trying to explode in a glorious rain of laughter—it's hard and quite painful, but Subaru manages to smash it before it can reach his lips. The body, he muses angrily, can be treacherous and easily fooled at the same time.

**---**

Death tastes horribly: it's disgustingly sweet—to the point it becomes salty and then melts into a simple and bitter nothingness. Just like when you eat too much chocolate—or have your mouth filled with blood.

This end truly seems to suit me in more than a way. Don't you think so too, Subaru-kun?

**---**

"Too used to having the bed all to yourself, Subaru-kun?", Seishirou's voice is as obscenely intimate as a lover's caress, but his words are shallow and derisive.

Subaru lifts himself on his elbows and glares at him. Seishirou's smile doesn't falter, and they stare at each other for some long seconds; or perhaps it's minutes.

And, perhaps, all that it would take is a few words—just two or three sentences, and they could have a chance. A possibility.

But Subaru looks away and Seishirou watches him in silence as he gets dressed.

They can both hear the crazy roar of time as it rushes towards the end of this world. Their night is over; their time is up. Before this day ends, Subaru will be on Rainbow Bridge, waiting.

**---**

I won't say I am sorry for making you cry. I won't say I regret denying you your wish, for I could make mine come true, and now I own you completely, whether you want it or not.

Having you—Knowing you to be mine—Nobody else will ever have you like I did, like I _do_. I am the first to fall at your hands, and I know you would have never done such a thing for anyone else. I know you will never forget these moments; that the feeling of my heart around your fingers will always linger on your skin. Barely perceptible and yet unmistakably there—like a delicate kiss.

I know that, from now on, there won't be room for anything else in your heart, if not for the memory of me.

**---**

In spite of anything you might have believed, I don't find any consolation in your last words. They don't make me happy, or content, nor do I feel accomplished in any way.

And I'm not proud, either. I had decided a long ago that I would grant my own wish, even if it meant being selfish, or betraying my sister's memory and my family's expectations.

Seishirou-san, love knows neither 'right' nor 'wrong'.

You of all people, should have known better.

**---**

So, Subaru-kun, live.

Live, no matter how painful it is. Live with this sorrow I'm giving you now, because it is my last gift. Don't let anyone put an end to your life, because it only belongs to me.

Live and cry all you want, because that is the only way I can have you.

This is my happiness, and I chose to achieve it, regardless of the cost.

**---**

Your words can't make me feel any better, for they can't change our past: who we are and the choices we made and all that has happened between us.

And now that you're gone, dragged away by the waves beneath what's left of Rainbow Bridge, they don't even have the power to grant a chance for a different future.

What's the sense, now, the meaning beyond all of these years of rage and absence and cold smiles? I don't know anything anymore.

Your words, Seishirou-san, are just as useless as I am.

Seishirou-san…

I—I only wish for everything to end.

**---**

"The Kamui of the Dragons of Earth told me that only I can fulfil your wish, but that it is different from what I'm thinking."

"…"

"Isn't your wish to kill me?"

"No, you're wrong."

**---**

Subaru-kun—

I—

—you…

**---**

"If… nobody could ever hurt or kill anybody, then why would people become blinded to the most important things?"

**THIS TEMPORARY LIFE / end**


End file.
